Windows
by blufiresprite
Summary: Ginny and Draco are thrown into a world where magic and wonder collide as they find out they are each two of the Blessed Children, on an adventure to reach the Power before Lord Voldemort and capture its mystery with their newly found
1. The Stolen Kiss

_Windows_

By nicagirl and jmagic

**A/N: this is my (our) first fic, and I'm sorry to disappoint you if I suck at this, but well—I had this windows thing in my head all summer, and I've been trying to get it down on paper . . . and well, here's the result, a fic called Windows. Sorry if Gin here sounds too depressing—I'll try to get her a best friend as soon as possible—perhaps someone who's initials are DM? Possibly . . . Okay, here it is, please don't kill me! And oh yes, read (duh) and review (please!) to tell me what you think and if I should continue. And what year should Draco and Ginny be in? I like Ginny being in October of her sixth year and Draco obviously same time in his seventh year . . . but that means less than a year together! *tear***

**Disclaimer: yes, yes, I know. I am not J.K. Rowling; I am flat broke . . . I owe my little brother fifty cents . . . argh! Well, can we move on now? I really don't like this part . . . **

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Windows

Chapter One:  

Ginny awoke with a start from her dream, which had been very pleasant she remembered  . . . there was someone in her subconscious that had made her laugh and feel all tingly inside, but who was it? _Oh well, _she thought _I'll remember sooner or later. Must've been __Harry_, though._ _

She smiled to herself and opened her curtains, she looked around the dormitory. No one seemed at all even thinking about waking up. _Surprise, surprise.__ She rolled her eyes. But once she looked at her clock, she realized why. It was four in the morning, and that time usually didn't exist for any of her room-mates, but to her this wasn't unusual. _

Ginny had been waking up pretty early the last few weeks, and it was always because of some dream she couldn't remember. She always felt like laughing when she caught herself trying to remember it. It was so foolish at first, but now it was getting really strange and every morning she was waiting to recall her ever-so-pleasing dream. But now, it was just really annoying her. 

She stretched and yawned, looking towards the oval-shaped window. _Always rounded, but still not a circle.__ Like something about it always changes, but yet never ends. _ Ginny sighed and finally, ignoring the shape, looked outside the blurred window, masked by rain, changing its image every time a streak of water ran down the smooth surface, as if the window itself had been weeping, crying itself sick; only there for others to see past and to the world that lay behind it, or through it on the other side. 

That was how the world, Ginny felt, saw her—merely an invisible waste of space, her only use to weep. People were always overlooking her, looking but not seeing, hearing, but not listening, and worst of all, concerned, but not caring. It was true, she did sometimes let a tear fall down her cheek when she felt ignored, but she felt everyone deserved to see that they had pushed her too far away.

She was, after all, just another extra person to add to the crowd one walks by to get to class or to the Great Hall, another stranger, another _someone that has nothing to do with anyone else's life, another insignificant girl sitting in the crowd of somebody's eating at the Great Hall who one shouldn't have to give a care in the world about, just another burden for the world to have to take care of, and give another life of meaninglessness, just another window in a huge castle with more beautiful and interesting surroundings; only one, she felt, was left on a lonely wall, shattered and broken, pieces laying about unnoticed and not cared for and forgotten and lost, wearing a mask of happiness and smiles, of fake joy and expressionless eyes; a secret held within their depths. She was still waiting for the moment of when golden rays would fill her to the core, and transform her into what she wanted to be: cared for. She knew she had that from her parents and her brothers when they were around, but she just didn't have someone she could really spill out to. _

Okay, reality check . . . _Maybe it is just a bit _too _early. What _about _windows, anyways? Hmm, maybe I'll get back to my dream-boy, __Harry__. Or, was_ it ___Harry__? Oh, well, I'll find out soon enough!_

Ginny wearily tucked herself back in bed, and closed the curtains. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but once again, as it has been for the last few weeks, she couldn't get back to sleep again. 

So what did she do to wake herself up? Take a shower . . . duh.  The warm caress brought her back to life, and she quickly got into some jeans and a v-necked blouse, and pulled a cloak over them.

She looked back into the common room, and sighed as she noticed that dawn was _just_ approaching. The sun poked over the purple skies, sending it a fascinating combination of pinks, violets, reds, yellows, golds, blues and orange. 

_I just love how the sky looks when it's awaking. I wish it could stay like that all the time. Ginny thought. She sighed and picked up her bag. Maybe she should just go for a walk . . . as she had taken to doing the last couple of days. Then she would go to breakfast, refreshed by the crisp, cold air outside and the mist against the tarnished sky, not looking half as tired as she was feeling. _

As Ginny slipped through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady only just snorted, and she was on her way down the grand marble staircase and out the huge oak doors that would lead her out into the Hogwarts grounds.  

She laid her bag under a beech tree out by the lake and climbed up the tree. She usually would've waited a few hours and just roamed at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but this morning, she couldn't help but feel she was meant to watch the dawning sun and its many beauties. 

_          It looks like heaven. If it is, I'm pretty sure that Sirius is up there._ Ginny was sniffing, and tears were threatening to spill. _Don't I owe it to him, though? _

          She looked up into the sky and spoke, as if in prayer, "Sirius? Are you up there? I am so sorry for you and Harry. Snape doesn't seem so happy either about you—you dying and all.  If Harry was right about you when you were younger . . . oh I wish you could've stayed gold—just like dawn . . . " It wasn't until then that she let her tears fall and streak down her cheeks. It wasn't until she saw her sobs dripping down into the lake's water that she realized someone watching her from below on the ground. 

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He looked at the tears trickling in steady ripples across the glossy surface, and then up, looking for its source. It had been long since it stopped raining, only the dew and puddles dotting the grounds. Certainly it hadn't started raining again? Then he heard soft whispers—a prayer, maybe—as quiet and swift as the morning breeze ruffling through the trees and disturbing the leaves on the ground shed by the season of autumn's fall into the year. 

          He saw first, a stream of red flowing well down the branch over the lake. And then he found her, the girl who was crying. He went to the trunk of the beech tree and looked at her belongings—a shabby cloak and a tattered satchel.  The sewn initials on the satchel were what identified the crying girl.

          _V.W._ That would stand for—wait a moment! That was red hair, old possessions—and W as the first letter of her last name._ That could only mean one thing. __She was a Weasley! A crying Weasley! I wonder . . . what Potterhead, the weasel and the beaver he calls friends could have to do with this?—most likely a lot._

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Draco Malfoy was staring at her, Ginny, in the most superior, malevolent smirk she had ever seen—almost smiling, though of course he was there only to wreak havoc and ensue chaos—and that was at the very least.

Ginny wiped the tears from her eyes and ripped her stare from under his piercing silver gaze—_my, isn't this bark interesting? All brown-colored and hard—_here Ginny found herself picking at the bark of the beech tree, considering how tough it really was—"Ouch!" Ginny whispered.

"Well what do we have here? A wee little _Weasley." Draco said, shaking his head. "No. I do believe Potter won't care enough to find you here. And that crying, why, that was a good effect, Weasel, but I doubt our ickle Scarface likes weepers. Did you not know of him and Chang? Wait, I suppose you just pretended you didn't know—as not to let your heart break. You probably prayed every night they wouldn't end up dating for so long. Oh, and the leaving your belongings on the ground—very cheap way to get someone's attention. My you are a talented one—don't know why you were placed in Gryffindor and not Slytherin."_

_Oh, that Malfoy sure has a big mouth. Too bad it's not balanced with his intellectual skills. Maybe then he could finally get some new material. Hey, I should tell him that! Thought Ginny. _

"I'll have you know, my dearest _Draco_," Ginny jumped off the branch and landed on the ground with the swift movement and grace of a feline, and made her way to the trunk of the tree—her cloak and bag the only buffer between the two. "That my infatuation with your beloved Harry Potter has long faded. I suggest you get some new material," she held his gaze—his smirk fading into a look of shock—as she bent over to pick up her bag and cloak. "It's getting old. In case you haven't noticed, I've been there, done that, and—" she swung the bag on her left shoulder, her cloak over her right, and with her left hand she pulled up her jumper as to show him her white t-shirt all the while saying, "bought the t-shirt. So there, Malfoy—I think I've made it clear what I expect from you. Excuse me." 

Ginny Weasley left a dumfounded Draco Malfoy under the beech tree replaying the scene over and over in his head and just as she was about to make a grand exit, she tripped over the roots of an oak tree, sending her flailing to the ground, trying to get her balance. Her school bag landed in a puddle of mud, and her cloak landed up in the tree somewhere. Ginny soon found herself covered in a few spare leaves as the cloak shook the branches of the oak tree. Acorns as well decided it was a good time to fall onto a certain red-headed girls head too. 

From afar, Draco witnessed the sight, wincing and flinching every now and then as acorns fell from the tree and bombarded Ginny's head—"Ouch, ow—ow—oh—aw . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . OUCH!"  

He sauntered over to her defensive position, on the soil and shook the branches—more acorns came her way—and caught her cloak in his other hand. He leaned against the tree as he dropped the her cloak—_Ron wore this cloak in third year—over her form and went to retrieve her satchel from the mud and pulled out his wand to perform a spell as to remove the mud from her bag—"_Scourgify!_" _

He smirked as he dropped the school bag on her head as she struggled to untangle herself from the long cloak.

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_Damn __Ron__! Why'd he have to be so tall? cursed Ginny as she tried to figure a way out form underneath the leaves and long hand-me-down cloak. Then she felt a heavy load being dropped onto her head and suddenly stood up in alarm._

"I see you've found a way out. So tell me. Are trees your new obsession?" Ginny looked up to see Malfoy leaning against the oak tree, his copyrighted smirk plastered across his face.

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him evilly. "Tell me Malfoy; is suffocating girls _your _new obsession? Trying to get rid of us all? Just make it men in this world? Because you obviously care so little about us—you know, you being gay and all." She turned around and once again gathered her belongings in her arms and began to make her way towards anywhere but near Malfoy. 

"Am I gay?" he replied, a dangerous whisper.

Ginny slowly turned around to meet Malfoy's piercing grey orbs—the silver flecks were glinting in the rising sun and his silvery-blonde hair kept falling into his face as the morning breezes embraced them in a soft caress.

_Why does he have to be so good-looking? And why did he say something so stupid. 'Am I gay?' he just ruined the moment! He just ruined it all! I just had the last word and he had to utter 'am I gay?' Damn him to hell and back! No, I was taught not to think that . . . whatever, it's not like mum can read minds from a far._

"Shouldn't _you_ know?" Ginny said, slowly, unsure of what to say to that question, and cursing herself for being so caught up in his apparent beauty.

"Of course I know I'm not. But the only way to prove it to you is to _show you I'm not."_

"That meaning—?" 

"That the only way to prove it to you is on a bet—"

"Wait, why are you taking this so seriously? You know I was only joking, right?" Ginny said, a confused expression mixed with disbelief painted her face.

"Well you say it like it's a fact—and it's not—"

"Exactly! Ah so—you've got to get a girlfriend in no less than a fortnight." Said Ginny, a mischievous glint in her eyes as it dawned upon her face what she could get Draco to do if he didn't get a girlfriend in two weeks.

"But I already have Parkinson—"Malfoy was now reluctant to be held up in this. 

"Parkinson? Oh, you mean that pug-faced incompetent, insufferable, arrogant, narcissistic prat?" she said, a look of pure disgust washed over her.

"Yes that pug-faced, incompetent, fat, stupid, ugly ogre—"

"You call your girlfriend." Ginny finished for him, her cloak and bag forgotten on the ground. She crossed her arms over her chest and took one step towards Mr. Malfoy, fully aware of the fact that what she was about to do was quite a set-off and gave her statement a different meaning. "You know Ferret-boy, you could get a girlfriend in no less than a week, but you still have to show _me your not gay, not your girlfriend."_

"Are you suggestion we—we—"

"I'm not suggesting anything; I am merely pointing out that whoever goes out with you to prove your point must be watched by me. You _are after all __showing me." Said Ginny, pointing her finger accusingly at him._

"Bu—bu—but a fortnight isn't enough! That's only two weeks! No, I'm sorry, but why am I going to bet with a Weasley?" said Malfoy.

"Because you're the idiot who brought it up in the first place," said Ginny, Malfoy's trademark smirk on place.

"That bet? I was supposed to show you I wasn't a homosexual—which I can assure you I am not—that's all—but by getting a girlfriend—and—and showing _you how to—how to  . . . uh, er, what exactly?"_

"Tripping over yourself Malfoy? Afraid you'll lose the bet? My, my, I thought I'd never see the day. Isn't it a wonder—until it comes to prove your humanity, you back out?"  Ginny was fully aware of the fact how vulnerable and exposed Malfoy was in this position.

Malfoy smirked, which surprised Ginny, considering how much he was struggling a few seconds ago. "Not at all Weaslette. If I were a homey, would I be able to do this?"

Malfoy stepped closer and filled the space between them. His lips brushed hers as he enclosed her waist in his arms. Ginny, although surprised, immediately felt warmth fly through her body and butterflies swirled around in her stomach as the boy approached her, and quickly followed suit; her eyes fluttered shut and she wrapped her arms around his neck and she kissed him back.

_I am kissing Ginny Weasley . . . _

_I am kissing __Draco__Malfoy__ . . . _

_I am kissing Ginny Weasley!!!_

_I am kissing __Draco__Malfoy__!!!_

Draco pulled away and guided Ginny's arms away from his neck as he turned, but not before he whispered into her ear, "Later Miss Weasley—good show."

          Ginny could not believe what she had just done so she only just stared at Malfoy's retreating back, eyes wide and in a state of pure shock. _But he kissed me first! Well, at least there were no tongues involved . . . EW . . . I guess he was right . . . he's not a homey . . . he's my first—well, if that's what I want to call him . . . Argh! __Draco__Malfoy__ got my first kiss! Argh! _

          Ginny forced herself to shake her fist at the Draco Malfoy. She had just had her first kiss, and he didn't even mean it! _He is Malfoy! A Malfoy, and now there are birds swooning in my stomach, all because he kissed me! A Malfoy kissed me. He would rather have to kiss me than to compete with me! I guess __Ron__ was right. He is incompetent. Oh, but he still kissed me! I hope this doesn't mean that I like him . . . why? Why did he have to do this to me? And why did I kiss him back? And why didn't I slap him across the face when I had the chance? _

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          _Am I going insane? Why did I just do that? How could I let that stupid little comment get to me like that? Why? Why? Why? Why oh, why is __Parkinson__ picking her nose?_

 Draco was at breakfast, watching as Pansy Parkinson picked her nose across the table from him. It was pretty early, but breakfast _is_ early—but according to Draco Malfoy, it was late. He had been having sleepless nights lately, and had been walking around the castle grounds before any of his dormitory mates . . . _way before them._

All the Slytherins suddenly began to whoop with laughter all around him. Blaise Zabini had obviously told a joke at Crabbe and Goyle's arrival.

"Huh? What?" said Draco, distracted by the snickering faces before him. Even Pansy seemed to be distracted from her nose to notice them, and not the "Why are they this color? Aren't they supposed to be _green?" affair she had been wondering about aloud._

Blaise rolled his eyes. "C'mon, mate! Didn't you hear me? Or are you wondering the same as Pansy here?" and then he mimicked in a high falsetto voice, "Aren't they supposed to be green, Draco dear? Show me your bogeys, honey!'"

All Slytherins who heard that began to burst out in defeat—laughter, more like cackling and snickering filled the western side of the Great Hall.

Pansy whined, "Hey, in some cultures what I do is considered normal . . ."

Again, everyone chortled.

"Pansy m'dear that is not the point. The point is that here, it's not normal. Actually, then again, neither is your face. I mean how did that happen? Well I guess now we could all agree to ask your parents what the position is for making ugly babies!" said Draco.

Pansy scowled at him and turned to Blaise.

"Zabini, now you got my boyfriend mad at me!"

"Parkinson, listen to this—and get it through your head, I am not your boyfriend; never have been and I assure you I never will. Now excuse me, I've got to be going, or I'll be late for Transfiguration." Draco replied as he got up and left heading towards Professor McGonagall's classroom.

But he swore he heard her mumble, "I don't have a cow, so don't give me bull!" 

And Blaise replying, "That's so true! You don't have a cow! You have a piggy-pug-like face! Who ever thought that would resemble a cow?"

"Didn't I say that I didn't have a cow?"

"Yes, but that wasn't bull shit, Parkinson, that was the truth." They were all surprised Draco had manage to catch their little bit of bickering as he was at the doors and on his way out to McGonagall's.

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Today couldn't have been worst for Ginny. First she was seen crying by none other than Malfoy. Then he nearly kills her with her overgrown brother's old cloak—and not to mention the acorns and leaves and her bag!—and then he brings up how they are going to bet on whether or not he is gay or not, when all he did in the end was simply kiss her to prove it!

Hermione was currently explaining what her homework for Muggle Studies was . . . (**a/n:** oh the horror! O_o)

They were at breakfast, as you may have guessed, and an untouched plate of eggs, toast and bacon stood before Ginny.

Her thoughts of Malfoy and the kiss were suddenly swept away as a disgusted look made its way onto her face; Ron was now stuffing food into his mouth and was now gaping at Hermione through a mouthful of fried tomatoes and eggs.

"Ron, close your mouth! That's _so_ disgusting!" demanded Ginny.

Ron did as he was told, his ears turning pink as he gulped down his food and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robes. "But 'Mione, if Barbie is so popular, then why do you have to buy her friends? That's too expensive!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and changed the subject, "So Ginny . . . Ginny? Hey, Gin! VIRGINIA WEASLEY ANSWER ME!" said Hermione waving her arms in front of Ginny's glazed eyes.

Gin blinked and looked around trying to find out who was calling her name.

"I'm over _here_! Now, could you please tell me . . . what's on your mind?" said Hermione, hoping to begin some small-talk.

"What's it to you? It's not like you ever cared before . . ." said Ginny, standing up.

"Well good morning to you too." muttered Harry sarcastically.

"I heard that you know!" said Ginny over her shoulder. She wanted to be early for Herbology.

 Professor Sprout always worked with her for the odd number of students in the class. Ginny liked it that way; she'd prefer not to associate herself with her classmates—they only usually made fun of her, and every time she would get overly emotional they would tease her more about how she was such a cry baby.

But Virginia Weasley wasn't a cry baby, in fact she wasn't a baby at all, though perhaps if you took that word, crossed out the "y" and replaced it with an "e" you'd get Ginny. 

Ginny was five feet, five inches tall, with deep auburn hair, and hazel eyes. She was sensuous of course, with the right curves in all the right places—lucky to be petite. She had pale skin and freckles along the bridge of her nose. She had high cheekbones, and a hunger for playing the piano. Yes; the piano.  

Her piano lessons began when Mr. Weasley acquired a piano from the ministry. He was of course in charge of the Department of Muggle Artifacts. She had been playing already for six years and could play loads of songs from memory. She could also hear a song and instantly be able to play it, after a few tries along the keys.

Dumbledore, aware of her musical talents, had probably influenced her nonsocial life, by supplying her with a room in the dungeons of the castle where she found a grand piano—a gorgeous piano, at that—and thousands of songs to play. She only was told that another student used this room as well, but used the guitar music, meaning that the student played guitar. (a/n: duh.)

Ginny had always dreamed of coming to the room and find the student practicing—perhaps she could have a real friend after all. But she never once came close to finding her playing the guitar. 

Ginny also loved to sing. She was in the church choir while she lived at the Burrow, but she hadn't sung for a long while, except maybe to herself every now and then when she was bored. She would sometimes even waltz—she only learned how when Charlie was learning how to impress the girls, and she was his dance partner—and dance to blues, jazz, swing, and if she was lucky enough to find a recording, she would dance to salsa.

But enough said there . . . 

As she hurried out to Greenhouse Number 4 where the Gryffindor sixth years would be having Herbology with the Ravenclaws, a nagging voice in the back of her head—_You can't like Malfoy, you still  pretend to like Harry Potter—_decided to wash all of her thoughts back to her in a cold downfall.

Literally.

Ginny ran into (a/n: gee, guess who?) none other than Harry Potter. (a/n: hehe, fooled u, didn't I?)

The contents of her bag spilled everywhere and she kneeled down on the ground and hastily returned them. Harry appeared to have had his glasses knocked off of his face and was currently feeling around for them on the ground. 

"Hey! Where'd my glasses go?" he murmured.

"You know, if you were more careful you wouldn't have to lose them." Said Ginny.

"Ginny? Is that you? WHOA! Um . . . Sorry . . .  yeah, it is you." said Harry, as he first looked confused, then surprised, and now a bit . . . embarrassed.

"What do you mean 'WHOA'?" asked Ginny, feeling around herself to try and figure out what was wrong with her; she first wiped her face, then she looked at her clothes, and then finally, she touched her hair.

"Sorry, it's just that—well your hair looks three times as—as—er, well it just covers a lot of area when I don't have my glasses on . . . I don't usually see triple." He said somewhat apologetic. 

Now Ginny blushed, "Oh," was all she was able to say. "Um, here are your glasses . . ." she then pushed his glasses into his hands and stood up. Before Harry could put on his glasses and properly register everything in three with his poor eyesight, Ginny and her two triplet sisters were running into three greenhouses, where amazingly, everything had two _other_ copies.

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A/N: Should I continue? I really don't like my story, especially the whole "am I gay?" thing. But since some people think that Draco Malfoy is gay, I wanted to point out right now that he is straight . . . and don't worry—there will be a plot soon enough to the story, so just wait for the next chapter . . . I'm afraid this chapter was getting too long for it to be just the beginning. And the whole music thing, I know I know—salsa? Am I crazy? No, I just happen to be a big fan! *smilez* Well, n e ways, please review and tell me what you think . . . I know it sucks, so PLEASE DON'T RUB IT IN too much. Well, that's all I have to say except that I will most likely be replying to each and every review I get at the end of every chapter, that is, if there are any. 

Cheers!

nIcAgIrL and jMaGiQ 

^_^  


	2. Wombles in the Music Hall

Windows

nicagirl 

**A/N: Alright, so a few of you have been very nice to comment on the fact that they kissed _way too early in the fic for it to be—er—um—natural . . .  yes, I thought so as well, but it has to work into the fic and I honestly don't feel like boring you all with another chapter filled with completely useless information. I need to work on my plot line and fill in the holes, and so if you have any questions and comments I suggest you review. _**

Other than that, I am deeply very sorry for making Ginny oh so very depressing but her character and personality depend on what I have planned for her—no I don't plan on her going to Draco as her best friend at first.

**Disclaimer: now I have to remind you I am NOT J.K. Rowling for those of you who are wondering . . . and all of you lawyers out there . . . YES, I PAID MY BROTHER BACK, ALTHOUGH NOW HE IS ASKING FOR INTEREST. I think he is too smart for his own good—his arse is going to earn a nice bruise if he keeps asking for an interest rate raise. ( ^_^ )**

Anyways, on to another chapter of this dreadful ficcie.

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Windows

Chapter Two:

(Surprises come in all shapes and sizes . . . erm, yeah . . . duh . . . hi . . . ^_^ . . . )

          It was a nice day after all the double Potions he had. Ron sat across the table sitting from his best friend—best female friend (and perhaps even more than that as Ginny had always assumed)—he reminded himself, and next to Harry.

          Dinner at Hogwarts was just as it usually went—uproar from the Slytherin table anytime Neville decided to spill his goblet of pumpkin juice all over his pants; glares from the Gryffindors; eyes rolling in unison from the Ravenclaws; and confused glances and shrugs from the Hufflepuffs. The professors at the head of the hall would also take into house rivalry from time to time, smirking at each other whenever the usual mishaps erupted into obviousness and embarrassment filled the Great Hall.

          The usual of course could only last for so long; Ginny and Draco were absent from the formality of the night, and one could only guess what either of them were up to. It only took one slam of the door to figure that whatever they were doing didn't have the other to do with. 

          Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table; everyone else quiet, surprised and curious at what he had stood for, and then all eyes turned to face the figure at the other end of the hall.

          Harry could only make out a hooded silhouette unclasping its cloak off and revealing Cornelius Fudge himself, the Minister of the Ministry of Magic.

          A nod and murmur from Dumbledore to McGonagall was exchanged and moments later she had come back with a three-legged stool and a hat—a very, very old hat from what Ron could see, and soon Hermione had voiced everyone's thoughts:

          "Why does Professor McGonagall have the Sorting Hat for? I don't suppose it's because we have—"

          At that moment, what was unnoticed soon was clarified and vindicated; five shy figures emerged from the shadows behind Fudge. 

          Though why Fudge was present at the Sorting of five new students placed a quizzical look on Hermione's features. 

          Of course the hall was soon lifted in high spirits of curiosity and delight; new students, new rebels, rivals, friends, etc, it was all part of what Ron liked to call "The Power of Wombles."

          "Wombles? Ron, what in Merlin's beard are _Wombles_?" asked Harry, laughing in spite of himself.

          Though Hermione, being the walking dictionary she is, answered the question before Ron had time to comprehend Harry's question. "_Wombles, Harry are what we like to call new students. Wombles comes from the words, weird, odd, mumbles—sometimes confused with muggles. This word of course will not be found in the __Britannica Encyclopedia or a dictionary but perhaps even in _Modern Wizards' Slang_." She finished matter-of-factly._

          "'Mione, he didn't need to know all _that, you know. You could have left it simple—just bragging and all doesn't exactly make you erm—eh—yeah—um, pass the peas?" Ron said this last bit in severe blatancy of changing the subject._

          "Makes me _what, exactly?" asked Hermione in a demanding voice._

          "Er, well—um—attractive, is all." He mumbled behind his napkin.

          "What was that? I'm sorry, couldn't hear through all the mumbling." Harry said teasingly.

          But Ron's reply wasn't repeated; Dumbledore began to tap a fork against his goblet lightly in hopes of interrupting all the murmurs.

          "Students, quiet down now please. I have an announcement to make." The Headmaster said in his soft yet strong voice—his eyes twinkling. "As you may recall mine telling you we will be housing a number of transfers for the school year. Apparently, they're a bit early—for safety precautions, of what Cornelius was kind enough to inform me. Please welcome these five new students you would your own long, lost relatives." He gave a chuckle and nodded in the direction of Gryffindor's head of House. "Minerva, if you will."

          "Alright, on with the Sorting . . . Albert, Emmy."

          A tall, thin, blonde-haired girl with light blue eyes stepped forward. From what Harry could tell, she was probably in her seventh year. McGonagall instructed her to sit on the stool and the old, battered and patched hat was placed on her head, it all looked too familiar to those who had watched the Sorting, only the hat's rim didn't fall down over her head, and instead fit perfectly. After a few moments the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

          Hermione could've choked on her pumpkin juice; Ron had jumped up with many others—and so doing knocked over an empty goblet which surprised her in mid-swallow—and whooped. Harry had to force him to sit back down. Ron was already taken with Emmy's appearance. 

          _Stupid git_. Thought Hermione. Emmy came and sat down next to Seamus Finnigan and Parvati Patil.

          Harry could see the twinge of jealousy in Hermione's unmasked face and could only imagine the rampage to follow. This was entertainment . . . if he could call it that. It seemed life for him, lately, had been a sitcom; problem every morning, solution every afternoon. The pattern was becoming awfully annoying.

          McGonagall quieted the applause with a simple wave of her hand and followed the list, "Muhammad, Sethos." she said this with uncertainty—the name was Arabic. And sure enough, a dark, tall, and no doubt handsome young man with masculine features stalked to the stool—also in his seventh year—and placed the hat on his head himself. McGonagall, too surprised with his looks and grace let the taking of the hat slide, and so, a minute later, the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN."

          Sethos smirked from his place on the stool, got up and stalked towards the applauding table. If he were there, Draco would've been proud of his new house-mate's smirk, but Blaise automatically sneered at him—knowing very well that Draco would've done the same out of pure competition.

          Pansy Parkinson, though, had been complaining about how Draco never told her anything, was suddenly taken aback as the dark boy sat next to her. _M-Merlin! He's HOT!!!_

          All thoughts of Draco were washed out of her mind.

          The third person was called to the stool, "Rivera, Ebony." A very, almost giant-looking, tall girl with short, brown, curly hair trudged to the stool, a look of appall on her tan face—making her look a year older, although she was only in her sixth year. Just as the hat was placed on her head, it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" 

          The Ravenclaws also placed a look of appall on their faces as they cheered and applauded with much enthusiasm. Now, if only the Hufflepuffs could get a Womble . . .

          As Ebony sat with her house, McGonagall began to finish the Sorting ritual. "Smith, Jacob."

          A scrawny boy jumped at the mention of his name, his dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes as he all but ran to the stool. The Sorting hat fell over his head, and amazingly, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

          Shock surrendered from the Gryffindor table but was soon filled with equal ovation. This time Harry stood up, to show the new comer some support. _Sort of reminds me of myself._ He remembered how he had been mortified of the whole idea of being a wizard in the beginning, and then to be even offered a chance in Slytherin . . . 

          Harry shivered and sat back down, throwing Jacob, a fifth year, a reassuring smile. 

          "Valley, Celeste." A girl revealed herself from her hood and stalked to the stool; her long, straight black hair and light violet eyes could have had anyone guess her an immediate Slytherin. But a sort of condoned confidence had the hat shout, "GRYFFINDOR!" 

          Again, an uproar of cheers, hoots, and clapping ensued from the once again surprised Gryffindors, and even Hermione had to admit that even she had judged Celeste by her looks.

          "See Emmy? I knew you'd end up with me." Celeste said from across the table to her friend. Apparently, they knew each other from wherever it was they had come from. They'd probably met on the way to Hogwarts, anyways.

          Dumbledore had risen from his chair once more and silence occupied the Hall. "Congratulations to all; I would like to mention a few things—your necessities will be appointed by tomorrow. And a few words to the dense from the wise: the third floor is forbidden, as is the Forbidden Forest. One would think I wouldn't have to mention the forest, does the name not speak for itself?—I would think really. Other ways, enjoy the feast—Cornelius, won't you join us?"

          "Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. I would be awaiting for tomorrow to leave. I have some business to attend to in the morning as usual, erm, by your leave sir, I can't stay too long." Fudge said in a rushed voice, he was by all means exhausted. 

          Dumbledore conjured a chair for Fudge next to him at the head table and Fudge was soon there, conversing with Professor Sinistra about the upcoming lunar eclipse, all the while taking in some food the house elves had made appear as soon as he had touched his pumpkin juice.

~~)~*~(~~

          "Oh . . . my . . . God . . ." was the only thing Ginny could utter as she stepped through the threshold of the "music room" as she had taken to call it. This was not the chamber she had remembered using yesterday, or the past six years for that matter. 

          Usually there was only a solitary suit of armor on the wall; she would mutter a password to the face and climb into a temporary curtain as the suit of armor stepped forward. 

To any onlookers, it would look as if she had stepped into a solid wall of bricks, but in reality, the solid wall was a liquid barrier—the only thing hiding it was the suit of armor and the simple optical illusion.

Ordinarily, a large hall was on the other side of the curtain. Racks of music covered the walls, a piano in one quarter and a guitar accommodation complete with comfy chair and fireplace. Only one room; but not anymore—now there was an entrance hall, a small water-fountain bubbling in the middle. 

A sculpture of a man and woman riding a dragon would slowly erode away as the water effervesced by. But there was something . . . strange about the water. It wasn't clear—it wasn't _water_! It was a silver and gold glittery dust that looked, felt, and sounded like water. _Unusual, no . . . odd . . . strange . . . out of the ordinary . . . mental note: study thesaurus._ Thought Ginny. 

She looked up at the ceiling and all around the hall. It was all white and circular, columns between each door, arching up and over to the ceiling, where moldings of angelic-like creatures crept over and across the dome, a red gemstone shaped as a star majestically spread across the room, shedding a reddish glow that reflected in the bubbling water—er, glitter . . .  fountain. 

          There were seven doors to choose from in the chamber. Where had her piano gone? Surely Dumbledore hadn't moved the location of the music room? She needed her piano, and soon . . . she was in the best mood to play Moonlight Sonata. But, what if Dumbledore decided to remove the music room altogether?        

          _No, he would've told me first, or at least gotten my consent. She shook her head, and began to look around the chamber for the smallest of anything relative to music. _

          And then she heard it, a soft singing first, but sure enough, a guitar was to accompany it.

          _" . . . _Well I threw you the obvious, just to see if there's more behind the eyes of a fallen angel, eyes of a tragedy. _"(This is A Perfect Circle's 3 Libras song. Download it or something . . . and imagine _Draco's_ voice. Hehe ^_^)_

          It was a male's voice; certainly she hadn't found her partner in music at Hogwarts? 

          Ginny made her way to the third door, where the guitar and singing was coming from. She opened it, only to peek through of course, but soon her breath was caught in her throat. She couldn't even begin to digest the scene before her.

          Of all the people to play guitar in the school, it had to be _him. _

          _The boy who stole my sanity!!!_

_          "Here I am expecting just a little bit too much from the wounded."_

          Malfoy—Draco was sitting on a chair, with a guitar and guitar pick in hand. He was leaning over the strings, playing the chords and picking at the notes, left hand gliding over the frets, sometimes making a squeaking sound. The noises created an entrancing song; and with Draco's voice . . . it just cast a spell over Ginny; her eyes widened and she dropped her hatred in an instant. He was so beautiful, with his stormy grey eyes so concentrated on his music and his pale hair falling in wisps in front of them.

          _"But I see, see through it all, see through—see you . . . "_

          At that moment, Ginny's music dropped to the floor, and she was thrown out of her reverie; as had Draco. 

          "What the fu—?" he began.

          "No, please, your song—don't stop . . . it's just too beautiful—please finish your song." Pleaded Ginny. What was she thinking? Of course he would hex her on the spot, but she didn't care—at least if he considered sharing his talent with her, perhaps—

          "Why?" Draco's guitar was now leaning on the wall, and he had pocketed his guitar pick. "What are you doing here, Weasley, anyways?"

          "I just happen to be the other student permitted here, Malferret." _Clearly, Malfoy doesn't want to think . . . _ 

          "Naw, that can't be true—" 

          "Oh, but it is . . . and I have a piano, and music to prove it."

          "You've a piano? I thought you were too poor to even afford _music_." Draco smirked, his annoying 'I am proving you wrong, hahaha' smirk at that.

          "Why, you—you—you _blast-ended skrewt—you!" Ginny retorted, furious he could even bring up another one of his stupid remarks concerning her family's economic standards._

          "Me? A blast-ended skrewt? I think you've got yourself mixed up, Weasley. This isn't your reflection you're talking to—although, I couldn't blame you for wanting it to be." And that stupid smirk was plastered on his face once more.

          "Argh, you are _so_ asking for it, Malfoy. I wouldn't want to be you if—if—I could have chosen to be!" she finished lamely. He snorted and shook his head, somewhat amused at her remark.

          Ginny couldn't stand him for another second, and she was soon lunging at him, but due to his lightning quick reflexes he caught her fist in his hand, and had twisted her arm. And Ginny, catching on with this 'game' twisted his back. 

          "Ouch!" He let go in surprise, rubbing his arm. "I mean, er—you—you, ah—you got any idea why there're all these extra rooms? I mean, if you really do play here . . . "

          "What's the matter Malfoy?" Ginny began, putting on a leery smirk that even _Malfoy_ could have been proud of—if she weren't a Weasley. "You've just gotten hurt by a _Weasley_. The _youngest Weasley if you please—and a girl at that!"_

          "Come off it." He sneered, a pale blush of fury brushed cheeks. He drew his wand and whispered, "_Oblivious!" He had just removed her memory of the previous incident._

          Ginny went into a state of confusion as she had just remembered what she had just said to Malfoy, and for no apparent reason—she hadn't beat him at anything. 

Malfoy smirked at her, and Ginny blushed, wondering why she said that and decided to answer his question.

          "O—of course I play here! Why on Earth would I be wandering at the butt of a suit of armor . . . —don't answer that!" she added at his eyebrows wriggling suggestively. "I am really lost. Am I in the right place; I'm wondering why the hell all of these _rooms are here. How'd you find this one?"_

          "I opened the door closest to me, and found it empty—I wasn't really going to play anything on music anyways. Just trying out a song I heard. Maybe you should look for the one with _piano music, and oh yeah . . . a __piano. It may help." He said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which made Ginny blush furiously, considering how it _was_ the most obvious thing in the world._

          "So did you manage to find one with a piano, eh?" she asked, avoiding his gaze.

          "No—got to this door and just . . . well yeah, this." He waved his hand vaguely towards the leaning guitar.  

          An empty silence filled the air; the tension so thick, one would think a knife would be enough to cut through it.

          And Ginny suddenly had a thought come to her, "Why'd you kiss me?" she whispered.

          "Why'd I wha—what?" asked Draco confused.

          "Why'd you _kiss me?" she said more strongly, apparent aggravation in her voice._

          "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Weaslette. I think you've forgotten the difference between dreams and reality." He said, averting his eyes from her stare.

          "Fine, if you're going to pretend it never happened, then so am I." she answered. _Draco Malfoy: I have to give him the 'Prat of All Time Award.'_

          _Why in Merlin's name did I tell her that?_ Thought Draco as he stepped backward into the room, suddenly aware that his guitar still wasn't in its proper place. 

          The door closed and Draco looked back; Ginny was inside the room with him. _Stupid girl. She won't leave me alone._

          But Draco couldn't help the feeling of warmth he felt at the fact that she had decided to stay with him. _Damn it. Wrong feeling. Hate—yes . . . Lucius! _

          A low growl was produced in Draco's throat as he thought of his father, or as he liked to call him, Lucius.

_* Flashback *_

          _"Get up boy! No weakling deserves to be called my son. He doth not deserve to bear thy Malfoy name!" _

_          Lucius cracked the whip against Draco's back; a surge of pain would've been sure to develop through his nervous system, but he was somewhat immune to pain now. _

_          "Lucius! No, not my son!" cried Narcissa from the top of the stairs._

_          "Stupid girl, get away from here!" he waved his wand in front of Narcissa's terrified face. _

_          "I said, no. Get away from my son." She had only just managed to get a tremor out of her voice._

_          "Mother leave—Lucius and I have some business to discuss." Draco absentmindedly wiped away a trickle of blood from his bare chest. He was tied to the dungeon floors by chains._

_          "Lucius!" cried Narcissa before she was stupefied and soon she lay at the foot of a set of stairs._

_* End Flashback *_

_          "Draco? Are you okay?" Ginny saw the seething boy look up at her with pure hatred._

          "Leave." He said, and Ginny could make out the pain in his voice.

          "What's wrong?" she asked again.

          He put up his guitar in its case and proceeded to leave himself. He side-stepped through the door, striding over the dropped music, and slammed the door to the chamber. 

          "Sorry." Ginny whispered to no one in particular. She looked down at the strewn about music and began to pick it up. She took one last glance at Draco's guitar room, and curiosity began to fill her to the teeth.

          _Did I just call him _Draco_??? _

_          Did she just call me Draco_??? What happened to _Malfoy, King of all Evil_???__

~~)~*~(~~

**A/N: Hello all of you people out there . . . Yeah, sorry for making this chappie just a little TOO short for your liking—at least it is TOO short for mine—anyways, thank you for your praises . . . um, jmagiq isn't going to contribute to the story like we'd planned—she'll just be my first hand beta reader then.**

Oh, and I'll say hello to the G.H.O.B.A.B. Sisterhood . . . love ya! And to the Fountains of Wayne—gotta love Stacey's Mommy! Lol, and Mr. Matta needs to get a life . . . ^_^ oopsies!!!

And now, for a proper good-bye;

Cheers!

Nicagirl, or Adriana


	3. Draco's Chair

**A/N: Hey all! Thanks for reading my story . . . if you want to call it that. Anyways, I finally got a really, really, really, good plot—but there _are_ holes in it, so I've got to fix those. Um I didn't just _feel_ right about making up new characters that were never there, so bringing _new ones actually fits into my newly-found plot. Yay! I am sooooooooooooo happy that I finally got my story's goal, so that it'll go somewhere . . . this chapter, I think, is going to be odd—and you know that way-too-early-kiss thing? It doesn't have anything to do with the plot—yet. So I am trying to work it in somewhere . . . Jeannie should know that a few things in this fic are stolen from a Diary I wrote for the _Across Five Aprils_ project. Bloody hell; I'm not done with that either! Argh. Oh well. _**

**Disclaimer: Guess what? Since I didn't have enough money to pay the pizza dude, I owe my little brother $5 . . . and he's pulling the _interest thing on me! He's honestly watching _way too _many car commercials. _**

**Thanks to:**

Jmagiq

Vanoodable

M.E.

KittyKittyKristen

And, "you and—and—and your friend . . . "

Well, here's chapter number three of my fic. Enjoy!

~~)~*~(~~

Windows . . . Chapter Three . . . (Due to the calculations of my scientific calculator, I have no idea what the answer is.)

When Draco returned to the Slytherin common room, after being severely pissed off, he found someone sitting in _his chair. And someone was sitting on the person sitting in his chair._

"Oh Sethos! You are _quite_ the charmer! Oh! Draco! I—I—this is, this is Sethos." Pansy said as she saw Draco approach to _his_ chair and she jumped out of Sethos' lap.

 Draco scowled in disgust at the both of them.

"Parkinson, I can introduce myself." Sethos said nonchalantly and with a wave of his hand Pansy fled the common room.

Draco glared at her back and set his stare back on Sethos.

"I'm Sethos, Sethos Muhammad." He said, extending out his arm for Draco to shake it.

Draco only just stared at his hand as if expecting it to do some magic trick . . . he wasn't going to shake this piece of scum's hand! After all, he was sitting in his chair.

"Charmed, I'm sure." said Sethos, his arm retreating into his lap. 

"Oh yes, it's a pleasure." replied Draco in "polite" sarcasm.  "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Obviously." Sethos rolled his eyes. "I expect you're wondering what I'm doing with your girlfriend?"

"No, I'm wondering what the hell you think you're doing in my bloody chair!" snapped Draco. "And that pug-faced, brainless bitch is NOT my girlfriend. She can keep dreaming and spreading rumors, but she can suck her toes for all I care. You can have her, if that's what you're after. Now, on to more important matters; GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CHAIR!!!"

Sethos laughed, an evil superior laugh. "Draco, Draco. Figures you would think I want Parkinson. But as you see, I could care less about her than I would about Ronald Weasley."

"Oh, so you two have already been acquainted with? Lovely, now just do us both a favor and GET OUT OF **_MY_ CHAIR!!!" Draco boomed sarcastically.**

"What are you planning to do about it, Draco?" Sethos smirked. 

"Kick your arse to those slimy Americans, that's what." Draco rolled his eyes. (**A/N:** I am American—so no offense my fellow Americans; just trying to get his character developed.)

Sethos chuckled. "You know, you and I, we could be the greatest friends together."

"I doubt that's ever going to happen. Anyways, OFF! GET OFF MY CHAIR!!!"

Sethos' smile faded away into a sneer. "You _don't know what you got yourself into." Sethos whipped the chair away to face the fire._

"I think you misunderstood me." Draco stood behind his chair, resting his arms on the headrest. "I told you to get OFF MY CHAIR!"

"Oh, but maybe _you_ misunderstood _me_. This is _my chair, not __yours—"_

He never really got to fully finish his icy reply; Draco tipped over the chair, and off toppled Sethos, his robes over his head, while cursing Draco out. But Draco didn't mind; he was quite immune to it. He did after all receive insults from the bloody beaver, weasel, Scarhead Trio everyday, didn't he? Just as any normal teenager, he had managed to learn to "conveniently" exercise his selective hearing. 

"I don't think your father would accept this, Malfoy." Sethos spat, towering over Draco—who was, by the way, comfortably sitting on _his_ chair, not Sethos', but _his_, mind you.

"What are you going on about? You don't even _know my father." Draco said exasperated and even more annoyed as the Womble would NOT leave him ALONE. Come to think of it, he hadn't really told him to leave him be._

"I know enough about him to know he wouldn't want you to act this way. Your behaviour is principal to becoming a servant of the Dark Lord. I'm sure Lucius wouldn't like you to miss out, considering you would die if you didn't join Voldemort's ranks." said Sethos blatantly.

"I would _die_? That wouldn't faze me whatsoever. I practically already am dead." 

"And so you've chosen to die or join?" asked Sethos.

"Die? Lu—my father would probably disown me. He wouldn't kill me." Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"It wouldn't be your father that would've killed you. It'd be the curse." 

"Oh yeah. Sorry, I'm not Harry bloody Potter, I'm Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. I very well don't have a hideous curse scar, thank you very much."

"Not CURSE scar, the curse. You know the one that was placed on you as a baby. The one Vol—"

"What? I am NOT cursed." Draco was utterly _revolted. __A curse?__ That's downright horrid, no nauseating is more like it._

"You mean you don't know? About how Voldemort came and recruited you as an infant? He was positive you would live up to serving him; after all, Lucius was his first man—and really devoted to his 'work' as a Deatheater."

"How dare you? Calling _my father, a—a—a _Malfoy_ a _Deatheater_!" he could only gape at Sethos' bold comment._

"Well it's only the truth, eh?" Sethos smirked.

Draco scowled at him. "Oh bugger off!"

"You don't know about your curse, do you?" Sethos was still smirking.

Shifting in his chair, uncomfortable being oblivious, Draco was still scowling at the fire. "Father told me about something like it. But only just once. All I know is that . . . I am jinxed to a dark life, when I asked . . . yeah." He cleared his throat and looked at Sethos expectantly.

"Well, once Voldemort learned Lucius had a newborn child, he decided he might be of service to him in the future, and as son to a very committed, and no doubt rich, Deatheater of his, it could only be guaranteed you would be just like your father, in loyalty. Voldemort figured nothing would stop his way to all control of the wizarding world, and so was very sure that by your eighteenth birthday, you would be able to join his ranks. He placed upon you a curse, a most ominous curse; if you do not receive your Dark Mark by the time you reach eighteen years of age, you will die."

Draco kept his face impassive, as always, but inside, he was completely horrified. He took a moment to comprehend what his school mate had just told him. He was obviously cursed—his father told him so; he knew he would die if something didn't happen, but he was tuning him out and fantasizing about being Seeker on the Slytherin House Quidditch team with his new Nimbus 2001's, and beating the crap out of that stupid Potter and his dumb luck.

Sethos waved a hand in front of Draco's face. "Hello? You still with me here? Oh, good. As I was _saying, it is a pretty good thing you're a Mystic, though."_

~~)~*~(~~

Ginny Weasley was still in the chamber with the glittery fountain. The red glow of the sapphire dazzled her; no actually it quite really annoyed her. It was pretty at first sight, but now it was just getting on her nerves. The reddish glow splashed all over the floor and it looked like sparkling blood.

With her thoughts on Malfoy, she proceeded to another door on her left. Outside, voices echoed through the empty hallway. Ginny was used to the ignorance of her special sanctuary. But the scraping of the suit of armor's foot sliding forward surprised Ginny and she froze with her hand on the doorknob. 

"C'mon, Ebony. We need to check this place out. The headmaster said it was particularly his favorite place to look at. He said he wasn't very gifted in the arts. The only thing he can do is shake bells."

A tall, slender girl with straight black hair and light violet eyes walked into the room, a blonde-haired girl at her side, while dragging in a very, very tall, irritated looking brunette.

"Celeste, look!" the blonde-haired girl gasped. Her blue gaze set on Ginny, who stared back, the same astonished expression on her face.

"It's her!" The tall girl said.

"Obviously, Ebony. I wonder; Seth should've been here already. Hey Emmy! Oh my gosh! Look at that!" Celeste (**A/N: pronounced seh-LEH-stay.) gasped as she pointed at the glittery fountain. **

"Goodness knows our stuff! It's the Dragon Rider and the Elf." Emmy said.

Ebony seemed to be a snobby know-it-all, but a nice one, a copy of Hermione. "That's Anguis and Fay."

"Whatever." Replied Emmy rolling her eyes.

"Aw, Ebony who cares?" Celeste walked over to the fountain and reached her hand towards the glitter. She spread out her hands and suddenly a bubble of glitter rose from the fountain and erupted into a star in the air. 

"Hey, true Mystic!" Emmy smirked.

"You know it's not supposed to be doing that." Ebony walked over and towered over Celeste. She spread her own hand out in mid-air and moved it up and down a bit. The glittery star-bubble expanded into a diamond shape and dropped into her hand as an iridescent sapphire.

Ginny gasped. How could that glitter suddenly change so quickly into something that took nature centennials to create?

"Oh yeah, aren't you Virginia Weasley?" Celeste said as she waved off Ebony's show of talent.

"Yes, um, Ginny—for short." Ginny stepped forward and grasped Celeste's hand.

"I'm Celeste Valley. The tall one, that's Ebony Rivera, and the blonde, that's Emmy Albert. Do you by any chance know of a _Draco Malfoy_? Isn't that a weird name? Who would've come up with that? Oh my goodness gracious! Look at the ceiling you two!" Celeste hadn't noticed the ceiling until she rolled her eyes, searching for the person responsible for calling their child _Draco_.

Gasps were shared all over the room; no one had really paid any mind to the footsteps behind them.

"Girls." Chorused two voices behind them—male voices.

All four of them snapped their attention back to the intruders.

"You found him, Sethos?" Emmy asked.

"Sethos?" Ginny asked and glanced over at Draco, who was leaning on a wall, arms crossed, a bored expression on his face. 

He shrugged back at her and looked at the gem in Ebony's hand. His face was impassive, but his eyes showed he was impressed.

"Yes. This is Draco Malfoy everyone." Sethos replied.

Celeste took this as a time to introduce everyone to Draco. Then she looked back and beckoned Ginny to come over. "Draco, I'm sure you know Ginny. Sethos, this is Virginia—Ginny for short. Gin, girl, this is Sethos."

Ginny was quite taken aback that now she had two really good looking guys in front of her—both in Slytherin. _Damnation! She took his hand, and he said, "Please Virginia, call me Seth." He really was charming. _

Draco wouldn't admit it of course, but he suddenly felt that he should keep Ginny away from Seth at all times at any cost. So he was being protective of his sworn nemesis' sister, so what? She couldn't be going about just shaking the hand of anyone! She hadn't the experience with handling Dark wizards like he had; he had his father, and that was all the qualification he would need in that area, it was in his expertise. 

He had shaken the hands of everyone, save for Ginny, and retreated to his place leaning on the wall, with his arms crossed across his chest again. 

"Now where the hell is Jacob? He was supposed to be here already. Fudge must've told him so. We all—."

A deafening slap sounded throughout the hall, and a tall lanky boy wearing robes slightly too big for him stepped out of a door. "There you are! You're all late! Late, late, LATE!" he tutted and shook his head at his fellow Wombles—they rolled their eyes back at him—and as soon as he saw Ginny and Draco he said, "Hullo. M'name's Jacob Smith. How are we today?" he grinned at them.

"I'm Draco Malfoy." Draco said. He uncrossed his arms and strode over to the dirty-blonde haired boy. They shook hands and Draco gestured Ginny over to him. "This is . . ."

"Excuse me Malfoy. I know my name, thanks. Hi Jacob, I'm Ginny Weasley." She smiled at him.

"Ginny? Short for Virginia, I expect. Pleasure." Answered Jacob as they shook hands.

Ginny blushed. "Yes, Virginia. Um, I don't mean to be the breaker of moments here, but exactly _why_ are you lot here? You are all too old to be first years. I didn't expect any transfers until after winter holidays. Did Dumbledore rearrange something? I must've missed your Sorting during dinner then."

"Well, Ginny, you are quite right in assuming we're transfers." alleged Sethos. 

"It took _ages_ for Fudge to finally let us come. We wanted to come at the beginning of term; Dumbledore suggested us to come during summer to get, adjusted. But that Minister, so stubborn . . ." Emmy let out an air of frustration—_"Argh!" _

"At least we got here before winter holidays. Fudge finally gave in when Dumbledore told him that the parents of a pair of his students finally granted him permission to send him, Fudge, valuable information." Ebony finished.

Jacob spoke, "Turns out it was pretty valuable information. Fudge told us the state of the Dark Lord and we were summoned here immediately."

"Where do you go to school?" asked Draco, an eyebrow raised.

"We're all from different schools, across Europe. But we're all great friends; we meet every other month for five days. And now you two are to join in on the fun as well." Sethos responded.

"Where are you from?" Ginny asked Sethos.

"I was here a few years back; during the Triwizard Tournament. I used to be a pupil of Beauxbatons, but then I transferred to Durmstrang, and from there I went back home. I went to Ibn Tymia, in Morocco."

"Wow. I've gone to Hogwart's since . . . first year . . ." Ginny suddenly shivered as she remembered her first year. . . Tom Riddle's diary and the Chamber of Secrets. It was partly the reason she didn't have any real, close friends. She had been the tag-along of the Dream Team. They always kept their secrets from her; two years ago she was finally part of one of their adventures; in the Department of Mysteries. When they departed from there, she was able to see the ugly thestrals. Luna had been there for her when Sirius Black died. Sure Harry, Ron, and Hermione all missed them, but they had their special relationship with him, and they had more to discuss. She quite envied them for that, a reason she used to grow apart from them. Ever since then, she was alone . . . she hated her brother, Hermione and Harry. Sirius should've never died.

Draco lowered his gaze to the floor as he realized what Ginny must've been thinking. He had tried to warn her; he bullied her to try and get the diary back from her. He had almost gotten his hands on it the day Potter had dropped his bag when the dwarf came in with his valentine.

_*Flashback*_

_Draco was watching the Gryffindors head up to Professor Flitwick's for Charms on Valentine's Day when a dwarf came up to Harry._

_"Oy, you! '_Arry___ Potter!" shouted the particularly grim-looking dwarf as it elbowed people out of the way to get to Harry._

_Hot all over at the thought of being given a valentine in front of a line of first years, which just happened to include Ginny Weasley, Harry tried to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces. _

_"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way._

_"Not here,_" Harry hissed, trying to escape.__

_"Stay still_!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.__

_"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging._

_With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything._

_Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor._

_Draco decided it a good time to interfere. "What's going on here?" came his cold, drawling voice. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear his musical valentine._

_"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived._

_Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor._

_"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:_

        His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

        His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

        I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

        The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

        _Draco was sure Harry would've given all the gold in Gringott's to evaporate on the spot. _

_Draco and everyone around snickered; Harry valiantly tried to laugh along. He got up, his feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth._

_"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now." He said shooing off some of the younger students. "And_ you Malfoy—"__

_Harry, glancing over, saw Malfoy snoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry realized he had Riddle's diary._

_"Give that back." Harry said quietly._

_"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" Draco said, who obviously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought he had Harry's own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from Harry to the diary, looking horrified._

_As Draco glanced at the cover, about to read the diary, he realized he had what he had been bullying Ginny for. The cover read:_

_                T.M. Riddle, 1949_

_"Hand it over, Malfoy." Said _Percy___ sternly.___

_"Not until I've had a look," Malfoy answered, putting back on his 'bad boy' mask, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry._

_Percy said, "As a school prefect—" but apparently, Harry had lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus__!" and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart in the Dueling Club meeting, so Draco found the diary shooting out of his hand and into the air. Ron, the stupid idiot, grinning broadly caught it._

_"Harry!" bellowed Percy loudly, " No magic in the corridors! I'll have to report this, you know!"_

_But __Harry__ didn't care, he was one-up on Malfoy, and that was worth five points from Gryffindor any day. Malfoy was looking furious; not because he hadn't been able to embarrass Harry, and instead received a backlash, but because he had just had Tom Riddle's diary in his hands, and it just slipped through his fingers, literally. He was supposed to get it from Ginny, not Harry. So, mad at Ginny, he shouted in her direction, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"_

_Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling, Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Harry pulled him back. He didn't need to spend the whole of Charms belching slugs._

(**A/N:** that's what happened in the book—words and all, except I put this in Draco's point of view, so any of his thoughts and feelings in here weren't part of the book. I give credit to most of the above text to J.K. Rowling. You can find this in _The Very Secret Diary_, chapter thirteen of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ on pages 237 to 239 [page numbers of the American version—dunno bout the Brit one, though.] I added in Draco's thoughts and stuff so that it fits in with his character a bit, in a sort of weird way. ^_^)

_*End Flashback*_

_ "Why are we to join the fun?" asked Ginny, aware of what Sethos had just said. Draco suddenly snapped out of his trance._

Celeste answered, "Well because you're both one of us. One of the Chosen Seven, you know, a Mystic."

~~)~*~(~~

**A/N: I know, I know. I haven't explained what a Mystic is yet, but that's because I don't feel like explaining it in this chapter. It's too long right now. So you'll just have to leave me a threat warning me you'll cut me to pieces if I leave you off a cliff like that again. (*hint, hint* ::cough:: *review* ::cough::) As I said before, I finally have got a sort of plot, well just an idea floating around in my head for Ginny and Draco. And don't worry; there'll be plenty of things for you to look forward to. I know this fic isn't really going anywhere yet, but it will be soon enough. Oh, and btw, these three chapters, and most likely the fourth chapter, are all what happened in one day. That is plenty to look over, but all in all, it will make sense, in a long, detail-full sort of way.**

I am really sad at the moment. My friend just declared she was discontinuing her story of Ginny Weasley: Pixy Witch. Please encourage her onward! She won't listen to me! ;_;

I would also like to say that I'm sorry if any characters are out of character; I've tried my best to keep them intact. I am pretty sure they are so far, anyways. 

Also, a reminder to the Candy-Cane Express—you can keep trying, but you're just too sweet! And to everyone else, remember to review! Thanks and have a fantastic day—or night!

Cheers and Toodles!

nicagirl . . . Adriana

Postscript: I wrote this all in one day! Aren't you proud of me? ^_^ lol. Byez!


	4. Mystics!

**A/N:** My computer must be the stupidest thing on this whole planet!!! I honestly think this only because this is the THIRD chapter that it has erased for this story . . . nothing else is missing . . . anyways, here is my very, very, oh-so very late chapter four of _Windows_.

**Disclaimer:** I hate brothers. Mine is getting too smart for his own good—have I said that already? Dunno, oh well . . . I still hate brothers. L

~~)~*~(~~

Windows

Chapter Four

(What the hell are Mystics?)

(Draco, sit down . . . *rolls eyes*)

~~)~*~(~~

"Um, we're wizards, not _Mystics_. Those are _so_ fairy-tale. I mean, come ON!" Ginny said in a slow voice, as though explaining it to some school children.

Sethos looked at her, "Mystics? Fairy tales? That's what I thought. Used my powers, undesignedly. Then I got expelled . . . twice."

"Yeah, I know what you're going through," Emmy piped in.

"What are you talking about?"  Draco asked, outraged. 

"You know, what you're thinking: _Are they mad_? _What kind of stupid joke is this?_"

"It'd be quite a fine joke, though," Jacob chimed in, grinning. "Could you imagine the look on their faces when they find out that they're Mystics?—er, unless we've—" Jacob gasped and looked at Draco and Ginny. They had just met them here, and cringing at the thought, continued, "—unless we've got the wrong people,"

Jacob's face had now turned a sickly sort of pale green.

Sethos glared at his absurd thought, but Jacob kept going.

"Uh—er, surprise?! This was all a—a—mista—uh, joke! Ha?! There's a camera there, there, and there!" Jacob said uncertainly, pointing at three corners of the hall vaguely at his last.

"_Camera_?" Everyone but Ebony and Emmy asked.

"Um, Muggle . . . thing . . ." answered Jacob, his green face tingeing a deep pink. 

"Shut up, you prat," Emmy told him. 

"But—what if they aren't—" he looked at Draco and Ginny staring curiously at him and restated, "whom we think they are?"

"Oh, of course they are! Albus Dumbledore said himself that they were the only two having knowledge of this place. I think they call it the Music Hall or something by the likes of it," Ebony recalled crossly.

"That would explain the Baby Grand," Jacob said thoughtfully to himself.

"It's a Grand Piano, thank you very much," Ginny snapped indignantly. "Now what is this Mystic nonsense?"

Draco nodded his head to himself, "Absolute rubbish if you ask me."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, "But I didn't, you git,"

Draco took a step away from the threatening girl and raised his hands in front of his face defensively. 

"I didn't do anything, _Weasley_," he said.

Ginny paced her way towards him, her arms ominously waving in the air.

Sethos rolled his eyes and Celeste caught their attention.

It was also inevitable, too, for her eyes were as wide as saucers and her jaw had dropped to the ground, "What are you two? The Ignorant Duo or something of sorts? I mean honestly!!!"

Draco muttered into Ginny's ear, "And I thought Dumbledore was the only crackpot around here," which would have made her burst out laughing if it weren't for a number of things: her surprise that he would even talk to her; the fact that he had referred to Dumbledore as a crackpot; the comment coming from Draco; and the confusion that drowned her into a pool where Mystics were only on the verge of reality.

Unfortunately, Draco decided to open his fat mouth again, "Well, if there _are_ such things as _Mystics_, who and _what_ are they, exactly?"

"Er—do you think we should tell them?" Jacob asked everyone, yet to no one in particular.

"No." Ebony answered with a tone of finality.

~~)~*~(~~

Escorted by the many limbs of the five people they had met an hour ago, Draco and Ginny arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"_This_ is the entrance to the _Headmaster's_ office? It's—it's _hideous_!" exclaimed Draco, staring wide-eyed at the gargoyle in front of them.

"Yeah . . . so what?" asked Ginny defensively, lamely—if you'd like to include that little factor.

Jacob, out of the blue, slapped his hand on his forehead and said through gritted teeth, "Shit! What's the damn password to this ugly thing?!"

Emmy snapped her head in his direction, "Jacob! Since when do_ you _say—"

"Aw shut the bloody hell up, will you?" he retorted.  He didn't need her scolding right now . . . he needed the stupid password!

"See? I'm not the only one who thinks that thing is ugly," muttered Draco to Ginny under his breath.

Ginny let out a breath of frustration and replied, under her breath as well, "Shut up and go to hell."

Draco smirked. __

"I believe the 'bloody password' as you referred to, Jacob, is a candy item," said a voice from down the corridor.

They looked up to see Harry—_goonless_ (as Draco thought)—approach the crowd of students. 

"Ah, Potter, I see you've made friends with Mum," Celeste said . . . unfortunately referring to Jacob as 'Mum.'

Jacob shot her a glare that plainly said, 'Go on and say that one more time . . .'

Harry, catching on to the 'game' raised an eyebrow and said, "Mum? What happened? D' Jacob get a sex change and a full makeover done on him or what? I've always wondered why he was so . . . _lanky_."

Sethos chuckled and went to give Jacob a pat on the head and muss up his hair, "Oy, leave the kid be. Celeste, you act like you're an aunt of old age trying to be 'cool' again. Quite _sad,_ really."

Everyone around giggled—or rolled their eyes in Draco's case—whilst Celeste scowled darkly, murmuring foul language and glancing at Sethos who had become quite practiced in smirking. 

Ebony totally relished in being the 'Breaker of Moments'; she proved this by interrupting the laughter of her fellow peers, "So, what exactly is the password to Dumbledore's office, Harry?"

"I'm not exactly sure . . . it's usually a kind of . . . candy. Like: Cockroach Clusters; Pepper Imps; Toothflossing Stringmints; Fizzing Whizbees—"

"Droobles Best Bubble Gum?"

"Yeah—"

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean?"

"Er, yes—"

"Oh! Oh! I know! _Jelly Slugs_!" spat Draco sarcastically. 

Suddenly, the gargoyle leapt aside, to reveal an upward spiraling staircase.

"Well, there you go. Better catch the top step if you don't fancy climbing three stories up. Cheers." Harry said with a smile and he stalked away, feeling very confused—had he done the right thing? Telling them the password to Dumbledore's office? 

They could have been planning to trash it or something; steal Fawkes' tears, blood, or feathers; perhaps even rob it? But why then would Ginny be there with them? So he hadn't been on civil—nor speaking (needless to say)—terms with her lately; had he missed a hint? Was she now Draco Malfoy II? _Naw, she can't be _that_ evil, if she is, anyhow_.

And if she _was_ evil, apprenticed and mastered by Draco Malfoy himself, why would all the transfers be there with them? And what was Malfoy doing there anyway? Harry would expect him with say Sethos, but the lot of Gryffindors? And a Ravenclaw . . . and one would wonder how that little dirty-blonde haired, big blue-eyed little 'kid' didn't get into Hufflepuff.  And with Ginny? Ginny . . . Gin-bug . . . yes, little Ginny had grown up, hadn't she? Should Harry tell Ron? _No, you small-brained git, he knows that already._ All these questions . . . most of them only rhetorical—most only to ponder, like the meaning of life.

What was the meaning of life anyway? Who knows . . . who cares? Not anybody he knew did . . . Hmm, meaning of life; oh! Harry knows: act cool around his new crush, Catherine Danbury . . . 

Yep, there was Catty at the end of the hallway, with all her straight blonde-haired, big green-eyed, sensuous beauty, in blue.

_Okay_ _Harry__, act cool;_ Harry ran a hand through his hair, only to find it stopped an inch or so into the untamable mess that was his mane.

_Alright, that didn't work. Um, BE cool;_ Harry strutted down the hall, as if he owned the place, and gave a nod in her direction, but as the nod was too exaggerated, he seemed to look as if he were insanely cracking his neck, which he also did by the way, needless to say, it hurt . . . a LOT.

_Fine, __Harry__ think COOL thoughts, just THINK cool thoughts . . . something is bound to come out of it eventually;_ so Harry thought cool thoughts, and as he made his way towards Catty, a lame question escaped from his lips, "Uh—um, how's—how's Arithmancy?" he offered upon seeing her Arithmancy textbook.

_Oh yeah, COOL. God that was lame!_

~~)~*~(~~

Sethos pushed Ginny onto the stair and Draco stepped on after her as the staircase wound its way up the tavern and soon a blank wall came into view before them as the staircase stopped traversing upwards and a door magically appeared in the stone-forged wall of the castle. 

"Uh . . ." Ginny said, oblivious at what to do.

"Uh . . . ? Um, maybe _KNOCK_?" Draco mocked sarcastically.

"Shut up! You sound like a bloody girl when you mock me." Ginny snapped imprudently.

Draco scoffed, rolled his eyes, and said in a high falsetto, "Like, _whatever_," as he threw his hands up in the air and began to "file" his nails with an invisible nail-file.

Ginny watched for a moment, horrified.

Draco scoffed once again, imitating an annoyed Pansy Parkinson, "Um, like what's all the beef about, girl?" in an unnaturally accurate way.

"Ugh! Stoppit!" Ginny shouted; this was getting freaky. "You're scaring me . . . bad."

"Weasley can't even handle an act, how nice," Draco muttered, inescapable to Ginny's ears he made sure.

"Trust me Malfoy, if you were in theatre, you'd be great in a duck-suit speaking in Spanish, _'Ay, yo soy pato!_' I'm sure you'd make one hell of a great show."

(**A/N:** 'Ay, yo soy pato!' means something along the lines of "Oy, I'm a duck!" Pato=Duck=Gay. Pato is slang for gay in Spanish . . . Get it? Okay, whatever, if you are confused, lemme know and I'll try and explain.)

Malfoy, it seemed, rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day, and walked past Ginny, poised to knock at the door when it flew open and an exhausted Cornelius Fudge peered out and waved them in the office as he stepped out.

All around, gadgets and gizmos, books and scrolls lined the tables, bookshelves, bookcases, chairs, and even floated in midair.  Silver instruments took up more space along tabletops and chairs.

"Ah, I've been expecting you two," said a dull voice from the top of yet another set of stairs.

"Headmaster? I—we don't mean any bother, but, you see—we're sort of—well, I'm sort of—" Ginny began, nervous, suddenly unaware of how to state her question of 'What's a Mystic? Am I a Mystic? Um, you didn't tell me this because . . . why?'

"Get to the point, Weasley," Draco interrupted irritably.

"That _was_ my precise intention, _Malfoy_," Ginny retorted, patience having no effect around Malfoy.

"Er, Professor Dumbledore, we—uh, we—uh—we would like to know—wait, why were you expecting us, now?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly.

Draco rolled his eyes.

Ginny scoffed and said, "You know Malfoy, if you keep doing that, your eyes are gonna stay that way." 

Draco rolled his eyes again.

"See?! You did it again! I—I'm telling you, if you keep doing that, one day when you least expect it, they're soooooo gonna stay that way. Just watch; keep doing that and you'll find out how a cross-eye works."

Draco, unable to roll his eyes, shot her a glare.

An amused spectator, Dumbledore watched the adolescent's squabble, unbeknownst to the quarrelsome pair.

"All right, fine. Glare at me as you will. But I'll bet you'll find yourself lying on the floor, one eye screwed shut because you didn't listen to me and I decided to punch your eye in doing you a favour."

"I doubt you'll ever lay a hand on me," Draco retorted.

"Oh? And what makes you say that? Fa—"

"Ugh! Shut it Weasley! I did not come here to discuss in which ways possible for you to kill my eyes!"

Ginny blushed fervently, apparently recalling the fact she was right in front of her Headmaster.

"Sorry, Headmaster; I apologise for my behaviour. It—it wasn't exactly pleasant . . ." Ginny muttered regretfully.

"Oh on the contrary, Miss Weasley, I find it quite amusing what a family feud can do to two persons so alike each other. It's actually a shame, really: everything you'll miss out on in the future—you two could accomplish many implausible things together and with your fellow Mystics," Dumbledore replied, his eyes laughing amusingly.

Ginny would've thought Dumbledore mad for everything he had just said, had it not been for the uproar and explanation following his few statements.

"And just what the hell are Mystics?!" Draco said, losing the better of his temper.

"Now, now, Mister Malfoy, there's no need to shout such foul language around these parts," said Dumbledore calmly, "Come into my office, and I shall explain; it is important you understand this quickly—the Ministry has gotten a tip-off from—ah, well, yes. Let's see . . . Mystics. . ."

They followed the headmaster into his office as he spoke and seated themselves opposite him.

"Tales from the Lost Land, as they call it; prophecies _millenniums_ old; and just exactly _what_ started it all? The Aelfthryth, the passer on of the Power—"

"The Aelpth-who?" Ginny asked, unable to pronounce that word.

Dumbledore chuckled, though for some reason, the laugh didn't reach his eyes, "The Ae-elf-thrith, m'dear, Ae-elf-thrith. Now, a Seer at around 356 BC decided to work out one of her family secrets; the Prophecy of the Blessed Children. As she worked, she began to uncover maps, hidden trails, relatives kept secret, and spell books three to four eons old, all hidden in her Manor. That Manor still has its mysteries. She never quite figured out everything, but—"

 "Hang on, _what_ family secret and _which_ prophecy?" Draco asked.

"Yes, well—" Dumbledore began.

"Yeah, and _maps_, _trails_ . . . secret _relatives_? Spell books **eons** old . . . and what _Manor_?" Ginny interrupted as well.

"You see—"

The Headmaster was cut short yet again by a short rap on the door.

"Yes?" Dumbledore called.

"A note from Professor McGonagall, sir," came an excited voice from outside the office.

"Show yourself in, then," Albus replied.

A very energetic Dennis Creevey poked his head through the door and ran inside so fast his hat flew off his head and landed on the bird perch, needless to say it swallowed Fawkes whole.

Dennis' ears burned a hot pink.

"Sorry about that . . ." he said apologetically. Then, upon seeing Ginny and Draco for the first time in the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, he felt himself go red in the face.

Fawkes squawked a most unpleasant note: a really high E flat, from underneath Dennis' black wizard's hat. 

Draco and Ginny cringed. Both being musicians, they knew every way possible to avoid that note, though unfortunately; this was an occasion where they were both cross in finding they were helpless to mend that E flat.

Dumbledore smiled at Dennis nonetheless. "Mister Creevey, the letter then, if you please,"

Dennis, absolutely refusing to look at either of the sitting, exasperated pair, handed his headmaster McGonagall's letter.

_Wonder what they did to get themselves landed in _here_,_ thought Dennis as he stole a glance at the duo.

"Very well, Mister Creevey," Dumbledore reached into his desk drawer and retrieved himself a fine eagle-owl-feathered quill and a yellowed piece of parchment and scribbled the professor a quick reply in his handsome writing. 

The curious thing was—that is if anyone were to think anything more curious than a school of witchcraft and wizardry headmaster dealing with two feuding teenagers, a nervous boy of fourteen, and a phoenix squawking from under an excessively large hat—was the fact that he kept looking around at them all, as if deep in thought, straining to find the precise wording of his correspondence, when he'd no doubt written countless letters in his life, having an immense vocabulary collection; though his age wasn't showing, he was looking like a schoolboy trying to remember the answer to his Potions test. He seemed to look like Goyle when attempting to cipher the difference between a Pumpkin Pasty and a Cauldron Cake, in Draco's opinion.

Subsequent to tying up the parchment with a bit of string that had just appeared in front of Dumbledore's long crooked nose, he handed the parcel to Dennis, who took it and he said to him, "Thank you, Mister Creevey, and send Minerva my utmost apologies."

"Er—yes, headmaster, sir," returned Dennis upon dismissal.

Again, that E flat muffled squawk was heard resounding from beneath the hat.

"And Dennis," said Dumbledore in his soft, melodious tone, "Fetch yourself your hat, you hear? Don't want to be listening to Fawkes' efforts to join the symphony. Bad idea to give him . . ." he shook his head slowly, "At least he isn't competing in one of those Muggle telly-bimble shows, eh? I reckon they'd either kick him out on his fanny, or worst, host him on one of those Extraordinary Findings programs."

Dennis anxiously snapped his hat off of Fawkes, murmuring a second, hurried apology to his headmaster, and stepped through the door, trying very hard not to laugh. 

_Telly-bimble__, huh?_ Dennis thought.

_Well you can't exactly call yourself 'smooth' either,_ argued a second voice in his head.

_Oy! Stay out of my head, now! Everyone already thinks I'm barking mad,_ Dennis thought to his thought.

_ . . . Dropping a hat on his phoenix . . . it's lucky he's got a sense of humour, that man Dumbledore, you know,_ said the second voice, apparently refusing to listen to Dennis' defensive thoughts.

_Yeah, lucky . . . _no point in rebutting, that second voice in your head will always stump you (sooner or later).

~~)~*~(~~

"Hmm, apprehensive that boy Creevey, eh?" said Dumbledore to himself. 

Draco gave him a look that said plainly, "You've got to be kidding me,"

Dumbledore's attention fluttered suddenly to Ginny and Draco before him.

"Ah, yes, yes . . . Mystics." He stood up, his deep violet robes shining at the embroidery on his collar, and paced randomly around the room, two pairs of brown and grey eyes staring uneasily at him.

He pulled at his silvery beard and as he looked out of the window onto the Hogwarts grounds he spoke just above a whisper, "Cassandra Louse was this woman, the first of the Aelfthryth. She never married, being fully engrossed in her search. But she inherited her family's fortune, being Seer and first born. Though her testament left her inheritance to her sister and her sister's husband, her studies went with her to the grave. 

"Cassandra contributed quite a few prophecies in her day; some for publicity, some in the middle of her morning walk. She would often have to carry around Zonko's Spywear to record her predictions so she could later pen them down.

"One prophecy, one that is stored deep in that room in the Department of Mysteries," Ginny looked down at the floor at the mention of the Department, and Dumbledore gave her a willful smile, "was fulfilled three centennials ago:

_THE CONVEYING OF TRAITS WILL BE DEFINED,_

_WHENCE __THREE TO THREE__ ALAS COMBINE_

_THOUGHTS, MINDS, TALENTS ALIKE,_

_WILL OVERPOWER AND TAKE FLIGHT._

_THEY WILL JOIN _

_COIN TO COIN_

_AND HAND IN HAND_

_DISPERSE THE EVIL OF THE LAND_

_THOUGH SEEMINGLY ENOUGH THEY WILL_

_TRAGICALLY OBIDE AND FULFILL_

_THE DARK TREACHEROUS TIMES THAT AWAIT,_

_THEY WILL LIGHT THE TORCH OF FATE_

_SPREADING __SPARKS__ OF __JOY__, NOT HATE_

_AND THREE TO THREE WILL FALL AGAIN_

_WHEN WILFUL WISHES CHASE THEM AWAY_

_NEVER WERE THE THREE TO THREE_

_SPECIAL, DIFFERENT, MYSTICAL, THEN.___

_UNTIL COMES THE DAY_

_THAT THE FOUR TO THREE WILL STAY._" 

Dumbledore recited the prophecy without hesitation and the words hung in Ginny's mind before she could sensibly string a sentence together a few moments later, "Headmaster Dumbledore, sir, exactly what is the 'THREE TO THREE'?"

It seemed to take Draco a bit longer to comprehend the foretelling, for he sat staring without blinking at the wall nearest Dumbledore, and replied dumbly in a monotonous voice, as if he were in a trance, "It's part of the prophecy,"

Ginny raised an eyebrow in his direction but he paid no mind as he noticed he had spoken stupidly in a matter of seconds.

"The six Blessed Children; one is added every time a generation of Children are added—"

"So that makes this the seventh then? Is that the '_FOUR TO THREE_,' then?" Draco asked, making sure it came out sensible enough, to make up for his very un-Malfoyish remark, that was, much to his horror, meaningful.

"Precisely, until it reaches nine Blessed Children, the Apocalypse will reside, the End of the World will come, because all evil ends with the ninth generation of Children. You are here to disperse the evil in the current time and place, none other. For every Dark Age there is a Blessed Child insulting his opposition." Dumbledore explained.

"Did they ever hear of the Dark Ages, then?" Draco commented sarcastically.

"Have you ever heard of _Storytellers_?" Ginny asked him.

"What?" he snapped.

"_Storytellers_; fairy-tales: _Snow White_, _Cinderella_, _Sleeping Beauty_?" she asked again.

"_Snow_ _White_?" Draco repeated.

"The stories cheered them up while the Black Plague killed them," Ginny stated as if it were normal to have tragic deaths and romances in the same scene. 

Come to think of it, Draco thought, there _was_ one . . . _Romiette__ and Julius_, or something by the likes of it.

Draco stared, wondering where in the world the Weasley girl had come up with all of this rubbish. 

"Where in the world did you come up with all of this rubbish?" he asked her.

"It's not rubbish," she retorted.

He looked at her disbelievingly.

"I did _not_ make it up," Ginny offered.

He still gave her that skeptical look.

Ginny rolled her eyes and scoffed indignantly, "Muggle Studies, you idiot," she said as though it explained everything. As a matter of a fact, it actually did sort of explain everything.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together and cleared his throat; his audience was being distracted again.

"Sorry," the duo muttered in unison. They automatically snapped their heads in the other's direction and scowled at each other as if saying things in unison weren't to be done, for they couldn't possibly be allowed for humanity's sake to do anything in unison.

"Well, it seems to me we best get on with this lesson, my pupils," Dumbledore stated. 

Draco and Ginny resumed their positions facing the desk where behind it Dumbledore paced, pausing every once in a while to catch glimpses of their facial expressions. It really did help; expressions were like markings on an uncharted trail only used by the ones who made it. Appearances were crucial and useful tools in the middle of an explanatory; without them, one could only guess the precise comprehension of the partner or partners, in this case.

"Where were we? Ah, yes, the Blessed Generations of sorts, correct?" he did not pause for their answer nor did he search their faces for any sort of response but kept pronouncing, "Unfortunately, the Generations could be _millenniums_ apart, as seen between the Fifth and Sixth. The last was mere three hundred years ago, though they were not recognized properly. The three to three were seen only as talented and wise witches and wizards, their gifts mere 'powers' developed before their time. 

"Evidently, the Generations do not all give berth in Europe, oh no. The first was in Jerusalem, the second in the Philippines, the third in Nigeria, the fourth in America, the fifth in the Caribbean, the sixth in Oceania and now the seventh here in our own Britain."

Draco was, in one word, overwhelmed by all of this information. He wasn't used to learning about things he hadn't heard about, or forced to learn by his father. It was vile enough to think about all he had to learn about the stupid _Mystics_, but worst enough was to think about that stupid curse Sethos had confirmed.  Even that swarthy boy knew about his "curse" or whatnot. It seemed his father had plenty of explaining to do. And why was it exactly that Weasley hadn't a clue about her being a Mystic either?

It was hard to say who was more confused; Ginny or Draco. Ginny was in a similar state of mind: thoughts swarming through her head, questions taking up too much room, memories of her parents holding back on something, it all made too much sense now, what with Dumbledore sitting in front of her and all. But what if this was all a joke? What if Malfoy had paid all those new kids and Dumbledore to act it out? But then, what about the serious remodeling of the Music Hall . . . place? What about that? Who could've done that? Perhaps it was a trick of the eye, an optical illusion just like the entrance to it? Malfoy couldn't have been _that_ advanced in his magical education, could he? Were seventh years really _that_ far ahead? If this was the ticket, then Ginny had a lot to learn. . . . 

But judging on the look on Draco's face, he was just as oblivious and confused as she was.

Dumbledore paused his pacing and looked at the faces of his students. Ginny's eyes showed fear, and Draco's showed shock and disbelief. He could see the rogue in both of them. Sooner or later, one was going to explode. Dumbledore sat down in his chair and in reference to the portraits of the Headmasters and Headmistresses on the wall behind Ginny and Draco, watched them for moral support and security of nerves. It was going to be hard to handle the way they were going to take the fact that the world's fate rested in their hands.

But the portraits did nothing but pretend they were asleep with ears perked and listening attentively. This, entertaining Dumbledore, was enough support and security that was needed and so he recommenced his speech concerning the very rare topic of _Mystics_.

But at a glance at his two pupils, he noticed something was rather dull about Draco Malfoy.

"It has come to my attention that there is something bothering you, Mister Malfoy," he said this in a way which gave Draco the feeling he was being examined thoroughly by an unstaring headmaster.

Draco gave him a look that said, "Not now," and Dumbledore, digesting this fact, went on to explain their actual beings.

"Anyhow, you along with the new transfers, or as you would call them, Wombles, are the new generation of Mystics. You, along with your powers—"

"What _powers_? You mean our education in _magic_?" Ginny questioned.

"Alas, behold your memories and bestow them upon the present. Is there anything you made happen, that even the touch of sorcery couldn't explain?"

"Er—I don't know if it would be correct in saying the event par say is an example of what you're talking about—so. . . ." Ginny said, recollecting her strangest moment at the Burrow.

 "Go on," Dumbledore implored.

"Well, when I was about ten years old. The twins were here at Hogwarts, and they came home for the holidays, and used me as their test subject for WWW," Ginny began.

"What is WWW?" asked Draco.

"Honestly, don't you ever get out? _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, you goof-a-doodle. They've got a joke shop circling Britain, or haven't you known? Do you remember the Weasley Escape two years back or not? Are you really _that_ dense, Malfoy?" Ginny retorted, not believing Malfoy didn't know the famous Weasley Joke Shop.

"Oh, _that_ rubbish. Sorry, but I don't associate myself with you Weasleys, thank you very much," Draco replied rudely.

"Well then, Mister Malfoy, I suppose you are not up to taking the task as Mystic?" asked Dumbledore.

"Of course I am, Professor," Draco said, awaiting his next (no doubt cheeky) statement.

"Then you should begin to appreciate the Weasleys. For Miss Virginia is one, and you shall have to associate with her, she also is a Mystic as well and you two will have to learn how to deal with each other and these childish insults are henceforth prohibited. If you are at odds, I suggest the pair of you spend some quality time together," Dumbledore said sharply.

Ginny's smirk vanished as Dumbledore said the last of his speech. She was completely mortified. He can't have been serious though, right? 

The slight pink tinge that had appeared on Draco's pale cheeks was now replaced with a pale, greenish shade. He, of course, was the first to crack. "Oy, Dumbledore, we're not _married_," he shuddered at the thought and Ginny held an expression of pure disgust which deepened when she looked over at Malfoy, "and I think we'd be getting along fine without that sort of counseling."

"Hear, hear," Ginny managed to sputter.

Dumbledore chuckled in a most pleased sort of way. A Malfoy and a Weasley agreeing on something . . . that was definitely a first.

Ginny laughed nervously with him and Draco looked at them both and rolled his eyes. 

The youngest Weasley then stated apprehensively, "Funny, Professor, _extremely_ hilarious. I actually thought you were serious for a moment,"

"Now, don't get me wrong, Miss Weasley. It was most meaningful," said Dumbledore ominously.

Ginny could've passed out right then and there, but Dumbledore swiftly changed the subject.

But Ginny's and Draco's minds weren't there with their headmaster. This was really scaring the both of them . . . _quality time_?! What _was_ quality time? Surely he didn't mean associating in front of everyone? That would certainly be most . . . _disturbing_.

"Miss Weasley!" Dumbledore called.

Ginny snapped her head up.

Draco blinked.

Both fell out of their reveries.

"Yes?" Ginny answered.

"You were saying? The twins, Fizzing Wheezeballs?" Dumbledore pressed.

Ginny said, "Oh, yeah. Um, where was I?"

"WWW, remember?" Draco responded.

"Oh. Well, the twins secretly chose me as their prank target for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Their newest addition was an improvement of the modern Fizzing Whizbee, and because their ongoing effort on its improvement wasn't as much a joke to them then, they decided to experiment it on me.  

"So at dinner, they stuck my bum onto my chair, and gave me a dose of their modified version of a Silencing Charm; what that does is make the consumer smile in a most pleased sort of way and silently nod, which was the most of my figure at that point. 

"Fred stuck a Whizbee in my potatoes while George spooned it up and made me eat it. That was the most horrible sensation I have ever experienced, I say. 

"It exploded in my mouth and began zooming about, colliding with the roof of my mouth and then it burst into a million little pieces which were less tasteful than the last bit, and it all concluding with a rush of adrenalin that could not be released because of my current condition. My temper got the best of me . . . and well, next thing the twins knew, disaster struck.

"George was left with his nose stuck in his goblet of milk, and Fred with a forkful of steak in his mouth. They both received the worst punishment one could ever give to a man; they obtained wedgies," Ginny said. 

 "I know, I know," she said upon seeing Draco cringe at the thought of getting a wedgy, "The worst part was that because of the wedgies, they could barely speak. I mean, when they did, they sounded as if they had been on helium for quite some time. Certainly it took a while for everyone else to notice there was something wrong. Seemingly enough, Fred practically choked on his steak and George had his milk go up his nose quite a few times. Then father was so proud of me, he actually didn't contact the Ministry for an hour or so. The Magical Removal Squad didn't arrive until ten to midnight."

Dumbledore chuckled and then he said, "Well Miss Weasley that, in my opinion, is very lucky. Though, you didn't suspect that as some sort of _other_ power? I suppose it would be difficult, sorcery being the only thing you know how to acknowledge."

Ginny shook her head, "No sir," 

Dumbledore nodded his head in response and continued, "That night your parents celebrated your display of magic and received a most important letter from the Ministry. It said as much that you had performed Underage Wizardry—the event being such an extraordinary display of magic—although you hadn't a wand. When we received that response it was taken under most precaution that the following information to never be disturbed, unless the occasion came before: you were a _Mystic_, Ginny."

Silence.

And soon Ginny found it was the opportune moment to ask, "But why didn't anyone tell me?"

Dumbledore looked at her through his half moon spectacles and whispered in his soft voice, "Your parents had their reasons, mostly because they wanted to protect you from decisions you were too young to make,"

"Decisions? What _descicions_?" Ginny blurted.

"The decision that all Mystics will have to take at one point in time: whether you will be of service to all that is good or all that is evil is your choice. With the time you are in now, Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, would have surely run amok searching for you, to use you for their own . . . _plot_," Dumbledore answered.

"But, at the time there _was_ no _Voldemort_—well, at least no one _knew_ there was," Ginny argued.

Draco was the one to respond to this, "Mm, yes. But you are forgetting one important thing; he still had his Death Eaters."

"Precisely, Mister Malfoy," said Dumbledore, giving him an odd look. "It was because of this they chose to seal their verdict and deliver it into secrecy."

"So what? They could have at least told me something," Ginny pressed.

"My dear child," Dumbledore began, "it was their love for you that caused them not to tell you,"

"That's not what happened in Harry's case—with the Dursleys and all," Ginny muttered stubbornly.

Dumbledore continued, "That's beside the point, Miss Weasley. You must understand that it had only been a year after the Dark Lord's mysterious disappearance you were born. They did not know of your _gift_, and thus had no responsibility in telling you. When they did find out, however, they were given the decision to tell you or to keep your ability from you until the time was right. Since you were still at a very young age, it was suggested you wouldn't really understand anything they would tell you. There was also the decision-making factor to take into consideration. All of the acknowledged Mystics have chosen to stay by all that is good, choosing not to practice the Dark Arts. Though I cannot say the same for this Generation, for many of you have darker paths than those found in the Forbidden Forest,"

Draco flinched for two reasons: a) because _he_ was one with a dark past, and b) he wasn't too fond of the Forbidden Forest—that is, not since First Year.

Suddenly, a very not-too off-topic question aroused in Draco's mind, "Professor, is this why Fudge was here?"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed impassively, but they flashed nonetheless. 

"Cornelius was here to discuss a matter concerning you two, and the rest of the Blessed Children, yes. Although the majority of it is a bit confidential at the moment, I suppose I could—fill you in,"

Ginny slouched in her chair. _Better get comfortable; I've been here for quite some time, and it seems I'll be here even longer_.

Draco, however, leaned in to listen closely at his headmaster's coming words. 

"A meeting will be taking place tomorrow, instructions on where to go will be owled to you. Ministry representatives will be present so I advise you two to be on your best behaviour. Perhaps I could arrange for your quality time sessions to ensue tomorrow,"

_Oh no, not the quality time thing again!_ Ginny thought.

Draco must have been thinking along the same lines for he freed his urge to scoff.

Dumbledore ignored them as his eyes twinkled, amused. "Also, classes will be postponed for the ten of you—"

"Wait a second! Ten of us?" Draco interrupted, his eyebrow raised. That was the slightest bit of emotion he could display.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy, the ten of you. Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger will be joining you in your training," Dumbledore answered.

"We have training to do?" Ginny said, unpleased by the matter of more work. 

"To exercise and certify your gift, of course, Miss Weasley," was the headmaster's reply.

Dumbledore went on to explain that they had better behave themselves during training. After many protests and rolling of eyes, compliments of Draco, Dumbledore excused Ginny but held on to Draco.

Ginny exited through the office doors, after muttering her farewells to her great headmaster and petting Fawkes. 

In entering her common room, she was guided to her, ostensibly, new dormitory with Celeste and Emmy. Its sign read:

_6th Year _

_Gifted Girls_

Emmy's eyes sparkled and Celeste was encouraging with interest as Ginny recalled her meeting with Dumbledore. They went absolutely insane in bursts of giggles when Ginny told of her account with her two twin brothers. Especially Emmy;

"Are they cute?" Emmy asked. 

Ginny smiled, "Dunno, maybe I'll introduce them to you sometime,"

Emmy giggled back, blushing.

Celeste stated matter-of-factly, "You'll soon find out, Gin, that there is almost nothing on this girl's mind but boys,"

Emmy's face went scarlet and Ginny went on explaining, ("There's this really cute Ravenclaw, then. You may be interested in him . . . ") glad that she finally had someone to spill out to. 

Ginny felt as if Emmy and Celeste had been in her life all along as they joked, laughed, and talked as if it were routine. Two words came to mind as the youngest Weasley chuckled at Celeste's sarcastic remark ("Oh yes, because you're not that shallow, Emmy,") : soul sisters.

They even shared their opinions on little Draco when Ginny mentioned Dumbledore's great idea of "quality time." 

Emmy shook her head sadly at Ginny, "Gin, I feel sorry for you, mate, really, I do,"

Ginny, a bit boggled by the comment asked why.

"Why?"

"I feel sorry for you because you're a Weasley—your first kiss with the hottest guy at Hogwarts—apart from maybe Seth—and you don't get to enjoy it . . . sad, really. I would've gone ballistic, er, with excitement—_not_ wishing harm to the guy," Emmy added sheepishly.

Ginny only smiled and said slowly, "I bet you would've, if you didn't know him,"

Celeste agreed, "I definitely agree. That Malfoy is one mysterious boy—don't start with that 'mysterious guys are the best guys' crap, Emmy, or I swear I'll strangle you!"

Emmy, being the boy-crazy of the lot, had given Celeste pointers on raising her flirtatious side when Celeste said that Sethos was very mysterious.

Ginny had a dream that night, and it consisted of a castle wall, and three grand windows were placed on that wall, all glistening in the sun, like they had always been there. In each of those windows were the countenances of three girls: a blonde, a raven-haired, and a red-head, all smiling.

~~)~*~(~~

**A/N:** Okay, that was really long, and the end was sort of rushed, but hey! You wanted it updated, so here. Anyways, I just put up _Too Far Gone_, and I'm really excited about how that's turned out. Well, review and tell me if you got completely lost in a well with the whole Mystics thing. I know I did when I wrote it. And there're still all these things I haven't mentioned . . . grrness. This story is gonna take a while to finish, so bear with me here. Review please! And thanks to all my reviewers; if I had time to reply to you I would, but I really got to go. Cheers and Toodles!

-blufiresprite


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